


The Chocolate Game

by Leyenn



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Food Sex, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leyenn/pseuds/Leyenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Riker is a connoisseur of chocolate, if only by proxy. For the Porn Battle XII, <i>chocolate</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chocolate Game

He's learned to distinguish the taste of it on her tongue, on her lips: rich and smooth with a hint of vanilla, or spicy and dark with a touch of chilli heat, sometimes dark and bitter with the flavor of cherries. He's learned to tell the difference between Belgian, Thalian, Galastran; give her a bad day - or him a good one - and he can even recognise fudge or ice cream or mousse, each one leaving its own distinct, subtle texture in her mouth.

He'll never have quite the love of it that she does, but he certainly doesn't dislike the stuff, either. For one thing it would be hard to dislike anything quite so well designed to be dripped onto, or licked off of, naked skin, whether that be his own or someone else's.

And by someone else, he will always, in this case, mean Deanna. It doesn't matter to her who else he sleeps with and God knows she's nothing if not forgiving of his flaws, but take chocolate into bed with someone else and she probably wouldn't speak to him for a _week_.

He digs into the dish balanced on the sheets between them and scoops up just the right amount of ice cream, with just the right amount of ganache and warm raspberry sauce and the tiniest scrap of cream. It's a miniature confection in itself, and it's taken him a lot of practice to be able to get right.

Deanna looks up from the padd laid on the bed in front of her. He holds out the spoon, delicate and silver and long-handled, carefully balanced, offering his creation for her approval. Deanna licks her lips, deliberately sensual, with a sultry look in her eyes as she opens her mouth, very slowly, and lets him feed her.

"Mmmmm." She closes her eyes for a moment, savoring the taste, with an expression of bliss on her face. "Perfect," she murmurs. "Thank you."

He grins. "I try." This was their deal, after all. She deals with the writing, and he provides dinner - and entertainment. Though the sight of Deanna in bed, soft lips closing around a spoonful of sweet chocolate and deep red fruit is an entertainment entirely of its own, and one he's glad not to have to share.

"Were we in the capital four or five days?"

He thinks back, or tries to. He's more used to Deanna naked than anyone would guess, but they've been at this for hours and that look in her eyes has become unfairly distracting. "Four. I think."

"Four." She makes a note on the padd. "We need to make sure the emergency supply lists are back up to date, too..."

There's a dark smudge at the corner of her upper lip, taunting him. He sets the spoon back down and reaches out to take her chin in his hand and turn her head back as she talks. Deanna trails off, looks at him curiously; he swipes his thumb against the corner of her mouth, slowly, trying to make sure he gets it all, and she smiles in understanding... and then something more, openly wicked, as she tilts her head just enough to slide his thumb into her mouth.

He quickly bites back a groan - her mouth is warm and wet, silky lips cold from the sundae and tight as his knuckle slides between them and she's curling her tongue around his thumb, sucking on it, licking it clean... and his body would quite like to forget about their mission report entirely, at least for a while. "Deanna..."

"Mmm?" She sounds just like she has another spoonful of ice cream in her mouth instead, as if she's tasting more dessert instead of his skin.

"Are we almost done?" His voice sounds ever so slightly hoarse, not that he's surprised.

She smiles around his thumb, eyes sparkling. _We could be._

He hardly wants to pull his hand back, but that look is nothing if not seductive, so he does - just long enough to dip two fingers into the dish and offer them back to her, the same gesture as every bite he's fed her tonight, but offering very much more.

Deanna's smile widens; she pushes her padd off the edge of the bed and shifts onto her side to face him, reaching out to take hold of his wrist and bring his hand back. Another slow lick of her lips to prepare and then she slides his fingers deep into her mouth, her eyes fluttering closed as she savors this, too.

"Mmmmm..." Even if he couldn't feel it, didn't share it, the sound she makes is obviously and entirely pleasure - and entirely erotic. Her tongue licking his fingers makes him swallow, hard.

"Do I taste good?"

She sucks a little harder, flicks her tongue across the tips of both fingers. _You always taste good._

He grins. "Better without the spoon, huh?"

She opens her eyes to smile at him. _Much better._

Her voice in his head is hot, suggestive; he pulls his hand out of her grasp and rolls her onto her back, grinning down at her as he dips a finger into the dish again. Not too much: just enough to paint across her lips before he lowers his head and kisses her and licks it away again with his tongue.

Deanna purrs into his mouth, winding her arms around his neck, tasting the flavor of it with him. They're on their second dish of the night - it's been a long mission - so she still tastes of it even after he's licked her lips clean, even after a long, lazy minute when he pulls his mouth away and smiles down at her.

"Tease," she says, playfully. He chuckles, scooping up another fingertip of thick ganache. She opens her mouth, licking her lips in anticipation: he gives her a wicked grin, props himself up beside her, and drips it onto the tip of her nipple instead.

Deanna shivers at the sensation and squirms underneath him with a soft laugh. "Will, that's cold."

Still grinning, he leans down without breaking his gaze from hers and licks it off with the very tip of his tongue.

"Mm, you're right. Much better this way."

Deanna laughs again and squirms harder, very definitely angling her breast up to his mouth. He picks up the spoon this time to get a larger scoop; scrapes the edge of it very gently over the tip of her nipple and she gasps, at the brief cold scratch of metal and the chill of the ice cream, arching up off the bed. " _Oh..._ "

He grins wider, lowers his head again and wraps his mouth around her nipple - tight and hard and sticky and chocolate-flavored and Deanna moans, her pleasure like a slow, golden wave breaking against his mind. She cups her hand behind his head, a gentle but definite demand and he chuckles, in his head and hers: he knows she likes this, _really_ likes it, and he's very happy to spend as long as she wants doing it. Even without the added taste and texture of the chocolate, it's delicious and erotic to do this to her and make her feel like this, so easily.

She's breathing hard when he finally has her more than clean again and lets up, with a final, gentle bite just to make her gasp and sigh and arch into his retreating mouth. He reaches for the spoon again, piles it high and slowly paints a line of ice cream and whipped cream and raspberry sauce down her body, abstract and enticing. She laughs again, running her fingers through his hair.

"You're making a mess."

"That's the best part." There's plenty left even when he reaches her thighs, so he adds a goopy spiral low on her stomach before discarding the dripping spoon. Deanna arches an eyebrow in amusement, then lets out another pleased moan and tightens her fingers in his hair as he lowers his head and gets to work on cleaning up his mess.

He kisses, licks, nibbles a sweet and sticky path across her skin; she hums and twitches with pleasure every time he hits a sensitive spot, so he makes sure to find every one he knows - and he knows all of them, with Deanna. When he's low enough, he nudges her thighs apart and settles between them, then reaches up and pulls the dish closer, against her hip, close enough that he can dip his fingers in again.

Deanna twitches at the cold glass against her skin: she can read his intentions, of course, and he can feel her desire in return, and her appreciation for his creativity. He grins, gently exposing her clit with two clean fingers. Deanna smiles in his head, wicked and wanting and very turned on.

 _Do it, then._

"When I'm ready." He makes a show of scraping a little sauce off the side of his finger back into the dish, getting just the right amount -

"Will!"

He chuckles innocently, resting his cheek against her thigh. "What?"

Deanna sighs with frustration and no small amount of arousal, tilting her head back against the bed. "I don't know why I put up with you."

"Really good sex," he says, easily, and with a slow circle of two fingers, deliberately covers her clit with chocolate.

Deanna lets out a sharp gasp and arches her hips, her own fingers digging hard into the sheets. "Oh _god_ , Will..."

He rubs another circle, just as slow, spreading the sticky mess around. "Feel good?"

"Cold," she gasps out, and he laughs.

"But good?"

"Yes," she's laughing, too, though it's half a moan. "Good, very - yes, oh..." She rolls her hips, and he lets her, letting her find her own counterpoint to the pressure of his fingers, the thick wet slickness of the chocolate melting on her. "Will..."

This is Deanna: she doesn't have to be coherent for him to know what she wants. He presses harder and she gasps again, a shudder going through her; faster and she grinds onto his fingers, her need rising in his mind. He grins and kisses her inner thigh, playfully rubbing his beard against the sensitive skin just to feel her shiver. The scent is mouth-watering, chocolate and raspberry and Deanna; slick and dark and sexual, and he just wants to put his mouth on her and feast on the taste...

She bucks her hips off the bed at the first touch of his tongue, gasping his name, high and bright and laughing. " _Will,_ oh, _oh_ , yes, please..."

The chocolate is thoroughly melted now and messy, all over her; it mixes with her familiar flavor, makes it sweet and creamy and different. He makes a point to lick it clean with the tip of his tongue, into every fold of her, slow and methodical and teasing until she's pushing into his mouth and against his tongue, desperate _please Will please_

 _Tastes great,_ he thinks back at her. Her laugh is breathless; he licks around her clit and she shudders hard and comes under his tongue with a soft cry, a burst of hot bright pleasure in his head.

He makes his way back up her body with chocolatey kisses in a winding trail along the rise of her hip, across her stomach, between her breasts and along her collarbone; he nuzzles at her neck and she shivers delightfully, wrapping her arms around him, her voice playful and still out of breath in his ear.

"Mmm, and I thought you didn't like chocolate that much."

He grins. "It just needs the right accompaniment." He lifts his fingers to her lips again to let her taste, but Deanna smiles wickedly and strokes her hand down his chest, pushing him off her.

"I have a much better idea than that."

He flops onto his back, his grin broadening. He knows exactly where she's going. "Oh?"

She matches his grin with one of her own and reaches down to take him in her hand, already sliding down the bed. "Mm-hmm."

He's hard already - it's impossible not to be, after all that - and he groans at the perfect pressure of her fingers around him, because Deanna knows exactly what feels best, of course. She gives him a long, slow stroke, and another, as she gets comfortable between his legs - and then she looks up at him, flushed and beautiful and mischievous with that same smile as if he's a particularly delicious dessert himself, and dips the spoon into the sundae.

He jerks and hisses as she dribbles a trail of ice cream along the length of his cock. She's right - even half melted it's _cold_ , and sticky, and just knowing she's going to lick it right off again...

Deanna laughs, eyes sparkling as she looks up at him again. "Can't take what you dish out, imzadi?"

He pulls himself under control and flashes her a breathless grin. "Sure. Go to town."

She smiles, then, and it's playfully innocent and not innocent at all. "Well, if you're sure..."

He expects her to go for a heaped spoonful, but he should know better: Deanna has infinite patience when it comes to chocolate. She works in tiny increments, from root to tip - a little ice cream; a scoop of cream; a little more ice cream and a trickle of sauce, carefully daubed on with fingers and cold metal and it feels sticky and odd and right on the edge of unpleasant but not, just even better. He groans helplessly, fisting both hands in the sheets. She's enjoying this too damn much and he really, _really_ needs her mouth...

Deanna smirks, picking up on the thought. "Do you now?"

He gives her a look that would be a glare, if he had that much concentration left beyond _want your mouth on me now god damn it please._ "Yeah _._ " Hell, he's not going to deny it. She rubs a little cream along the underside of his cock with her finger, perfecting her creation, and he growls with frustration. " _Deanna_..."

She laughs and leans back a little, just enough to appraise her handiwork - and tease him for another _really_ frustrating moment - and then she licks her lips and splays one hand over his hip to hold him still as she takes him in her mouth. It's a slow slide, one smooth practiced motion and so good _-_ her lips sliding tight around him, her mouth warm and wet, her tongue licking at the mess of chocolate and cream... he puts his head back, groans. "Oh, yeah..."

Deanna's touch is sultry and pleased in his head - he's always been amazed, and gratified, to feel how much she likes this, too. _Mmmm, you taste wonderful._

He doesn't doubt it, from the way she's sucking on him. He growls again, desperate. "Come on, Deanna..."

She smiles around his cock, and she must be pleased with him for all this because he can feel her deep in his head, touching that indefinable _something_ that always feels like she's set his nerves on fire and that's all it takes for him to come, hard, gasping her name. " _Deanna-_ "

She swallows without hesitating, sucking and then licking him clean until the last moment he can bear it, and only then does she let him go with a brilliant, satisfied smile. She rescues what's left of the sundae expertly with one hand on her way back up his body; he chuckles, wrapping his arm around her when she settles close again.

"Don't want to waste any?" He's uncomfortably sticky and in need of a shower and their report still isn't finished, and he really doesn't care.

Deanna grins and props the dish in the center of his chest, scooping round the edge with one finger and offering it to him. "You know me better than that."

  


*

  



End file.
